No Escape (parts 1-4)

What if you couldn’t escape trouble? What if it followed you wherever you went? What if your name struck fear in the hearts of all people? What if you were the most kind-hearted person and all you wanted in this world was love and peace?1

This is the story of a man who couldn’t escape, yet he had the purest heart.2

“Yo! Watch where you’re shooting! You’re going to kill me!” A man in a pure white outfit cried as he flung himself in all different directions, dodging each bullet that was shot at him. Tears were rolling down his fair face which was hardly visible to anyone in the small saloon because he was moving so incredibly fast. No one realized his speed, however, but jeered at him for his sissy cries and pleads for the gunfire to cease. “Please! Please! Stop! AAHH!” The man screamed. He flipped and dodged more bullets appearing to be clumsy. Then quite suddenly, the gunfire subsided.3

“Damn!” The gunman who’d been shooting cursed with rage. He pulled at the trigger of his gun, but it just snapped dully. The gunman swore some more and stuffed his gun back into the halter. But when he looked at the man whom he’d been shooting at, at malicious smirk crept onto his face. “Lucky for you and your skinny white behind my ammo died. You’d be dead right now if I had kept on shootin’”4

The man dressed in white stood in front of a wall drilled with holes from the gunfire. He wiped his sweaty brow and stared at the gunman. He had a broad muscular chest and shoulders. He was about 6’2 by the look of him, yet the man in white looked down upon him. On the gunman’s head was perched a blood red cowboy hat and his eyes were counseled by shinny gold sunglasses. Finally, shaking from head to foot with fear, the man in white manage to squeak,5

“Why would y-you want to k-kill lil’ old me in the first place? I was just stittin’ here all by my lone-some, drinkin’, and the next thing I knew I was dodging your bullets.”6

“Don’t play sissy games with me fool! I know who you are. I knew the first minute I saw your face. You ain’t some freakin’ sissy-baby. Oh no, you’re Chance Lindsay, ace gunman and wanted outlaw with a mighty fine price on your head.” There was a slight intake of breath from the onlookers of the saloon at the mention of his name. Those who were sober enough high-tailed it out of there in a stampede. The man in white, Chance Lindsay, narrowed his eyes and hardened his stare at the mention of his own name. He wiped any fear and clumsiness from his features.7

“So, my act didn’t fool you? Tell me, what’s your name and who sent you?”8

“Smith, that’s all they call me. No one sent me; I came on my own terms for the cash reward for your head.”9

“Well Smith, since you’re out of ammo it wouldn’t be fair or fun to take you out now. So I’ll let you go free, just this once. I have a feeling we’ll meet again.” Smith’s face became red with anger, but when he talked his voice was clam and even.10

“That doesn’t sound like something Chance Lindsay would do. Let someone go free.” Chance smiled, but his eyes were sad. He raised his own magnificent gun and aimed at Smith.11

“You don’t know me.” Chance pulled the trigger and put a hole through the red cowboy hat. Smith stood frozen in fear for about a minute before he recovered enough to say,12

“We’ll meet again, I will guarantee you that, but next time I promise I’ll take you out and cash in.” With that Smith turned and half stalked half ran out of the saloon.13

“Not very bright, but he’s talented. He almost got me.” Chance mumbled to himself after Smith was totally gone. The Saloon was now empty except for some guys with long beards and dirty shin passed out in the corner.14

Chance sauntered up to the deserted bar and poured himself a drink. He was bothered by the fact that Smith knew who he was. He always works so hard to conceal his real identity, by acting so incredulously out of character no one would possibly think that he could truly be an ace gunman. But the inept scar on his face gave him away to anyone looking for him. The scar started at his temple and curved around his left cheek until it hit his chin. It was one of those pink-red shinny scars that looked like a deformity on the skin. Chance had gotten it many, many years ago but couldn’t remember how he had come to bear it.15

“Oh hell, what am I going to do?” He gently touched his left cheek and ran his finger along the raised area of his scar. “Everyone knows who and where I am.” Chance sighed and drained his last shot. Slowly he dragged himself from the bar and left the saloon.16

His old, dirty, beat-up jeep was waiting for him outside. Chance hopped in, ignoring the doors. He had decided that the best way to solve his problem was to leave the small desert town and never come back. If he didn’t, people would come after him, and he really didn’t want to hurt anyone if he didn’t have to.17

Chance shoved the silver key into the ignition and the engine roared to life. He sped out of the town without a backwards glance. He was used to leaving and not looking back. No matter how hard it was, because no matter where he went some bounty hunter or big hot-shot would find him and attempt to take him down. But Chance’s talent with a gun was phenomenal, almost inhuman. Anyone who tried to get him failed. Chance wasn’t proud of his talent though. Some times he had to hurt people, which made him cringe. He hates to hurt people and can never remember ever killing anyone, no matter what his reputation is. Of course that sounds odd for the most feared criminal around, but that’s just the way he is. No one actually knows chance for the person he is. They paint him like an ugly piece of blank canvas. They made him a ruthless evil person when he truly isn’t like that at all. All they know is he’s wanted and stories and rumors about him killing, but they are mostly just stories.18

When Chance thought about this, he mostly thought it to be very unfair. He didn’t think he deserved to be treated this way. Then, he thought about the price on his head. What else were people supposed to think of him? And maybe he did deserve this tough life. To be perfectly honest, Chance doesn’t even remember the reason why he is a wanted criminal. Of course he’s heard many stories about what he supposedly did. Things like murder a whole city of people in cold blood, steal millions of dollars, things like that. With all the different reasons, Chance doesn’t know what to believe. He has no memory of doing anything wrong, but people were always after him.19

The only thing Chance does remember is that he woke up in a jail cell, with no memory of his past. He was scared and frightened and didn’t know why he was there. No one seemed to want to tell him when he asked. Not long after he discovered he could do things, he had special talents. He used them to break out of the prison, and so began his life of running.20

Chance drove for more than two whole days until he came to another small rural town miles upon miles away from the other town. As he made his way into The Hixen Tavern, he heard people whispering already about his encounter with Smith.21

“Yah, I heard he was last seen down in Lexiville, not far from here.”22

“I heard he was at the local saloon and just opened fire, started shootin’ everyone in sight.”23

“I heard that too.”24

Chance sighed and took a seat on a bear wooden barstool. A chubby bartender with rosy cheeks and warm sparkling eyes waddled up to him from behind the bar.25

“What’ll be, son?” He asked.26

“Whiskey.” Chance put his fingers to his temples and started to massage them. A headache was beginning to from there.27

“Hard day?” The bartender asked as he poured whiskey into a slightly dirty glass.28

“Hard life.” Chance countered back.29

“Well,” said the bartender, now pouring himself a drink, “I guess life is hard for all of us. That’s why we all come here. By the way, you’re not from around here are you?” Chance shook his head. “Well my name is Abe Sanders.” Abe shook Chance’s hand welcomingly.30

“Hello.” Chance replied.31

“Just passing through, or do you plan to make yourself a home here?” Chance started to think that Abe was the gabbiest bartender he’d ever met. He didn’t seem to shut up.32

“I not sure yet, but I plan to try and stay as long as possible.”33

“Do you have trouble staying in one place?”34

“You could say that.” Abe must have caught the edginess in Chance’s voice because he decided to head the conversation in a different direction.35

“So, did you hear about what happened down in Lexiville? Chance Lindsay was said to have been there-“ Abe cut short because Chance had just jumped and spilled his drink everywhere. Chance started shaking from head to foot and his voice was a whole octave higher when he spoke.36

“Ch-Chance Lindsay? The w-wanted murderer?” Abe’s expression was surprised at Chance’s reaction to the name.37

“Calm down, son. It’s not like he’s here sitting at the bar with us. No need to be so frightened.”38

Chance almost laughed at the irony.39

“How do you know he’s not here? Do you know what he looks like?” Chance was eager to hear about his appearance in this town. With news about him spreading so far and wide, people got things messed up all the time. It was very humorous. So far Chance’s description has been different in every single town he’s been in. But even though most of the normal townsfolk didn’t know what he looked like, the bounty hunters usually always did. Which was always a bummer and a big pain in the as– well, you get the point40

“Well, I heard that on his right cheek,” Abe gestured to his own right cheek, “Is a huge tattoo of a snake, the devils pet. And from that tattoo, anyone can recognize him.” Chance almost cracked up laughing at this description, but managed to keep his act going and shook with terror.41

How could people possibly get a scar mix up with a tattoo? And even on the wrong cheek!42

“So what happened to your face?” Abe asked eyeing Chance’s scar.43

“Just something.” Chance’s eyes and voice had gone hard and his expression was stony. Abe immediately dropped that subject.44

“So, uh, anyway, what did you say your name was?” Abe asked as he poured Chance another drink.45

“Spike.” Chance had blurted the name out before he even realized what he was saying. He didn’t mean to give a name but it had escaped him. It sounded familiar, yet he has no knowledge of knowing anyone or anything going by the name of Spike. So why had he gave it as his name? It surprised Chance that the name made chills run up and down his spine.46

“Spike?” Abe began to chuckle disturbing Chance’s train of thought. “I haven’t heard a name like that in a while.” He then happily refilled Chance’s again empty glass.47

**********************48

“We’re going to hit this one tonight.” The man said, pointing at a location on the map lying out on his desk. His face was lean and handsome, but covered in stubble and hard as stone. His honey colored hair hung lank and unkempt around his face. The man bore no physical scars on his tanned skin, but you could see from his eyes that he had been through things that would kill any other person.49

“Tonight?” Groaned another who was sitting on an old flat bed polishing his gun, “I’m still sore from the last one.” He reached up and gingerly touched his right shoulder which was heavily bandaged.50

“God Chance, I’ve taught you how to dodge bullets. It’s your own fault you got shot, deal with it.”51

“I did dodge it!” Chance exclaimed defensively, “The darn bullet just clipped me a little.”52

“Then what’s the problem?” 53

Chance sighed and slowly put his gun back in its holster and shoved it under his black jacket laying on the filthy wood floor next to his bed. He had been lying when he had said he had somewhat dodged the bullet, it had hit him full on. He knew he hadn’t fooled anyone with his lie, but it made him feel better not to admit out loud he’d let himself get shot.54

“I’m not like you Spike, I need sleep. I need some rest.” Spike grimaced at Chance’s reference.55

“Sleep and rest are for the weak. We’re not weak, ya got that? You can’t let anything take you over.” Chance nodded. It’s like Spike was inhuman. He could go days and days without sleep or rest. Chance wished he could do that too, he hoped that one day he’d learn it from Spike like he had all his other abilities. Then this haze of exhaustion wouldn’t be covering his eyes and he’d feel perfect instead of dead.56

“I’m sorry Spike.” Chance mumbled, not really knowing what he was sorry for. Spike stared at him and after a while his eyes softened a little. Chance knew that Spike would never soften up to anyone else but him, so he never took these moments for granted. He drank in the expression and imprinted it into his mind forever.57

“Look,” Spike only spoke soft like that when he was feeling sorry for him, which never happened often. “I can see your fatigue but you got to put it together. We’re going to hit this place tonight then take a break, ok?” 58

“Fine, but we have to take at least a week off.” Chance demanded, wondering how far his luck would take him.59

“A week!” Spike exclaimed jumping off the wooden chair he’d been lounging on.60

“Yes a week. I know you can last at least that long without killing someone.”61

“Yeah, right.” Spike huffed, but the corners of his mouth twisted up slightly and he agreed to the week off.62

********************* 63

“Mr. Spike, I’m going to get you!” A small girl by the name of Kristy exclaimed as she ran after Chance. Chance and a group of the town’s small children were playing a game of tag in the town square. Chance loves to play with little children. They’re the only ones who never judge you. All they want is for someone to play with them. They don’t care who you are or what you’ve done; they just happily make friends with you.64

“Got ya!” Kristy yelled triumphantly tapping Chance on the thigh. “Now you’re it Mr. Spike!” Kristy laughed and quickly ran away from Chance’s reach.65

“I’m gonna get you all!” Chance roared playfully at the laughing children running in all directions. He lunged toward the nearest child, but missed and landed flat on his face. He quickly recovered and charged after another. They all played until the sky was suddenly painted orange and the children’s mothers called them inside.66

“Hey Spike! Back again I see.”67

“Hey, Abe.” Chance greeted the friendly bartender with a gleaming smile and sat down at the bar.68

“Hixen’s treating you well?” Abe slid a tall brown bottle over to Chance.69

“Well enough. Ya’all got a great group of kids here.” He smiled remembering the lengthy game of tag.70

“I saw you were out there in the square just playing around with ‘em. You’re a mighty odd man I must say, Spike.” Chance shrugged Abe’s comment off innocently and drank deeply from his beer. 71

Chance and Abe continued to laugh and talk until a strange person came waltzing into the saloon. It was a girl, and a pretty girl at that. She came in and sat on the bar stool right next to Chance’s.72

“Why hello miss Molly. I haven’t ever seen you in here.” Abe greeted the girl with his broad rosy smile. 73

“Hello Abe, I just decided to come on in and check out our newest townsperson.” She turned her gaze toward Chance, “Hello, I’m Molly Gipson.”74

“Nice to meet ya Miss, I’m Spike.” Chance outstretched his hand for her to shake, but she ignored it. Instead she pulled him into a friendly embrace. As her mouth came close to Chance’s ear she whispered,75

“I know who you are, Chance, explain yourself.”76

It took a lot of Chance’s self-control not to throw the girl off him and question her about where she got her information. How could she possibly know who he was? And why was she not scared of him and calling the sheriff on him if she really knew his identity. She was just simply sitting right beside him, smiling, laughing, and talking. She couldn’t possibly know. She’d be scared if she really knew. Right?77

“Spike? You all right? You’ve been staring out into space for a while.” Abe was giving him a sideways glace. Chance tried his best to wipe the dumfounded look off his face.78

“Yeah…uh, I’m fine.” He fumbled through his words, not taking his eyes off Molly. “I just… I think I need to go now. It’s late ya know.” Chance stood up and began to leave.79

“Hey Spike,” Molly’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Like you said, it is late. I was wondering if you would take the time to walk me home?”80

Chance just stood there and stared at her. Was this some kind of trap? Did she maybe have law enforcement waiting for them on that walk home? Or was she really going to attempt to take him on herself? Chance was so confused.81

“Uh, I don’t know. I…”82

“Don’t be a fool Spike,” Abe busted into the conversation, “You’d be glad to walk this fine young lady home!” 83

“That would be great!” Molly hopped off the barstool daintily, locked her arm around Chance’s, and led him out the door.84

The fresh night air helped to clear Chance’s head of the confusion. He and Molly hadn’t spoken since they left the bar moments ago. She hasn’t made any indication what she wanted. To be perfectly honest, Molly didn’t look like a person that would be after him. She looked young, very young, maybe a little over nineteen or twenty. She had long, curly, red hair with soft almond-shaped blue eyes. Her body was slender and petite. Molly looked totally sweet and innocent, but sweet and innocent can be the perfect deceit. So Chance never let his guard down. 85

The streets at this hour were totally deserted. It couldn’t have been passed ten-thirty, but in small town like this one, if people weren’t at the Bar they were home sleeping. 86

“You like it here, Mr. Spike?” Molly asked Chance the question, but didn’t look at him. Her eyes were focused on the passing dirt road in beneath them.87

“It’s a fine place to be.” Chance answered. He was so confused. Was Molly just going to ignore the accusation she had made? Or was she planning something? Either way, Chance wasn’t going to let her out of his sight if she really knew the truth. “Look,” Chance stopped abruptly and turned to face her, “I need to know what you where talking about back there in the bar.” 88

Molly’s blue eyes didn’t meet Chance’s gold ones; she seemed uncomfortable and took a step back. Her lean finger went to her hair and she started to nervously twirl it. Her eyes darted around the deserted square making sure that no one was around. She took a deep breath and began, “I -- I know who you are. I know that you’re not Spike.” 89

Suddenly, her face changed emotions. It went from nervous gaze to rebel stare. She leaped about a foot away from Chance and pulled a small hand gun from her purse. A ladies pistol. “I know you’re truly Chance Lindsay. My father, as you may not know, is a top ranked bounty hunter. He gets all the right info on outlaws and makes sure I know it all. I’m his little girl and his little girl needs to be in the Know so she can protect herself if someone like you should happen to come to town.”90

Chance stood there staring. Inside he was gawking. He had just watched this person in front of him transform from a young lady into a bounty hunter’s gun-wielding daughter. But outside, his stare was hard, calm and unnerved. He put on The Mask and prayed she wouldn’t shoot at him.91

“But I want to know something,” Molly continued her explanation, “I saw you playing with the children today. They love you, and you look like you enjoy playing with them. I want to know why. Why would someone like you, a known outlaw, play innocently with children?”92

“That’s none of your business Miss.” Chance answered in monotone.93

Molly sighed deeply. “Daddy would kill me for this,” She gently opened her purse and placed the gun inside. “Chance Lindsay, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I trust you.”94

“Excuse me?”95

“I trust you.”96

She trusted him? How could she possibly trust him? Chance stood there, unmoving, unspeaking, for the longest time. The only sound that was heard was the music from the crickets.97

Finally Molly spoke, “Well, good-bye for now. I really need to get home. And don’t worry about Daddy, he’s not in town right now.” And with that, she turned and left Chance alone.98

He walked back to the bar in a daze. No one, except the kids, has ever trusted him before. Chance could never recall anyone ever saying the words “I trust you” to him before. 99

“That Miss Molly is something ain’t she?” Abe said when he saw Chance re-enter the bar. Chance didn’t answer him. He was still confused and dazed.100

This confusion thing was not working for him.101

“I’m headin’ out, night.” Is all Chance managed to say to the barman before he headed out the door again.102

When Chance rested his head on his pillow that night, he had made a decision about how to deal with Molly. He simply decided not to dwell on her. She herself had told Chance she wouldn’t get him into trouble. He was going to trust Molly like she trusted him. Hopefully, though he really doubted it, he would never have to see her again.103

The next morning the sun shone brightly, warmly on Chance’s face; waking him from his slumber. He opened his eyes, yawned, and thanked the sun for its subtitle wake-up. Stretching and sitting up he got in position for his daily meditation on life, love, and peace. Unfortunately, Chance is incapable of sitting still longer than five seconds.104

“I’m hungry,” Chance declared to himself as his stomach squealed in agreement. He headed over to his traveling sack and rummaged through it. Finding what he wanted he held them up triumphantly. “Doughnuts! God’s man-made piece of heaven on earth!” He ravenously tore open the package of twelve and stuffed his face with glazed goodness.105

After his stomach was satisfied Chance decided to go out. He wasn’t exactly sure where “out” was, but he flung on is white over coat and headed out the door.106

Chance wondered around the streets of the small village. He watched and observed the busy people on the streets and throughout the town. They were such peaceful people. Everyone seemed to know each other and willing to help anyone in need. They greeted each other warmly as they passed by. The atmosphere warmed Chance’s heart and he couldn’t help but smile. Why could the whole world be like this village? Why couldn’t the whole world have this much love and peace?107

To Chance’s horror he felt his eye begin to burn with tears. He found a wooden sitting bench and settled himself upon it. He let the tears come silently. To be honest, they came very often these days. It was almost as if they had been bottled up inside him for to long and were finally getting the chance to burst out of him. He often wondered if he ever cried before waking up in the prison. He highly doubted it.108

“Mr. Spike,” Chance looked up and saw the distorted, blurry image of a girl with vibrantly red curly hair. “Are you crying?”109

“Is that a crime now Miss Molly?” Chance said with a long sniff. Molly’s eyes were huge with surprise and her mouth was slightly agape.110

“No, no of course not. It’s just – it’s a very rare thing to see a grown man cry,” She said and sat down next to Chance. The old wooden bench groaned from their weight. 111

Chance kept his silence and glared at the bustling street. He was no longer crying. Molly’s presents had plugged up the waterfall of tears for now.112

“I don’t mind crying,” Chance said, looking into Molly’s eyes now, “it feels good sometimes. Nothing to be ashamed of or to hide.”113

Molly stared at him for the longest time. Chance stared back, attempting to figure out what she was looking for. They sat there and stared at each other until Molly sighed frustratedly.114

"I don’t understand,” She said, reaching up and gingerly touching Chance’s scar. She traced it with her finger, a gesture Chance was very familiar with, and then her eyes fell once again to Chance’s. “You are Chance Lindsay. You are a murderous, heartless, ruthless person. “She let her hand fall back limply to her side, “But if you truly are him, then how come you act this way?”115

Chance stared into those round, confused eyes. Looking into those eyes as blue as the sky made something inside Chance give away. He suddenly felt as if he could tell Molly anything at all. If he did, something amazing would happen. He took a deep breath and began,116

“The name Chance Lindsay belongs to me, but the labels that come with that name don’t. I’m not – I’m not the person I’m painted to be. I don’t know why I’m treated the way I am. I’ve never done anything wrong to my knowledge. I just – woke up. I woke up in prison. I don’t know why.” He was crying again. He couldn’t help it. Molly was gazing at him, looking awestruck. Did she understand? Could she possibly? Chance hoped dearly that she would. He reached up and wiped away the wet emotion dripping off his face.117

“I could tell you were different,” Molly’s weak voice startled Chance, “The moment I saw you, with the children, I knew you couldn’t be like – Him. Like the Chance Lindsay my father told me about.”118

“How?” Chance blurted out without thinking. He didn’t normally ask questions.119

“It was your eyes that gave it way,” She said, “No person who has done the things Chance Lindsay has done would have eyes like your’s; so soft and sad looking.” She gazed into his eyes. Chance could see hers were brimming with tears now. Tears of pity and sadness. He looked away abruptly, feeling like he was seeing something he shouldn’t. Chance has only ever seen people shed tears of fear in front of him. The change was awkward and made his stomach churn.120

“Mr. Spike! Mr. Spike!” A small girl with two long pigtails perch on the top of her head came running to where Chance and Molly were sitting. She grabbed Chance’s hand and tugged pretty hard for such a small person. “Come and play with me! Please! Please! Please!”121

Chance smiled despite the sick feeling in his stomach. “Alright, alright, Kristy, I’ll play with you. Just give me a minute. “Kristy nodded eagerly and ran off. “Molly, will you excuse me?” Chance said without looking at her.122

“Come and talk to me again later, at my home, please.” Chance nodded and without a response went to join Kristy.123